


Found

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a standard trip to Telos, Qui-Gon finds something unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found

**Author's Note:**

> Written circa-2006 for the Xanatos/Granta Omega challenge on 'ja_jq', as well as to satisfy an urge for 'fic where Qui-Gon and Mace are BFFs during their young Knight years. Information on Xanatos' back-story has been gleaned mainly from Jedi Apprentice #2 ("The Dark Rival"). Also, I must cite Wikipedia's entry on Sifo-Dyas particularly, its mention that he was friends with Count Dooku - as the inspiration for making him Windu's Master, since Wikipedia also admits that Mace canonically has never been paired with one. Takes place some good twenty-five years or so before the beginning of the Jedi Apprentice series. Definitely fulfills the 500+ words requirement for the community challenge (actually, if there were a 5000 word minimum, it would have even fit that, frighteningly enough).

Telos was an attractive enough system, Qui-Gon decided reluctantly. He himself had never been impressed by obvious displays of wealth, or landscapes heavily dotted with man-made machinery and technology, preferring much simpler fares like rolling hills, crisp bodies of waters, and fields of wildflowers. However, sitting in the Governor's expensively furnished personal meeting chambers, which provided a nice view of what Telos had to offer, he decided he could not fault it for personal preference alone.

In an identical plush, high-backed chair on his left sat Mace Windu, whose face betrayed no emotion, but whom Qui-Gon could sense was equally unused to such lavishes. Mace and Qui-Gon had arrived at the Jedi Temple at roughly the same time, had trained together, had become Padawans who had traveled on many joint missions alongside one another, and who had been Knighted during the same ceremony.

They had remained close throughout the years, owing, perhaps, to situations beyond their individual controls. Mace's original Master, Sifo-Dyas, had been good friends with Qui-Gon's Master, Count Dooku, who had left the Order when Qui-Gon was eighteen for reasons still puzzling to him. Mace's Master had stayed on, but had changed, Mace often confided in him; the once stolid personality had since become all but a hermit, still a Jedi, but broken somehow. He had attended Mace's Knighting ceremony and performed the traditional act of severing his braid, but they were hardly in close communication these days.

Qui-Gon, on the other hand, had been taken in by Master Yoda shortly after Dooku's departure. It was he who had suggested that they go on a series of their own diplomatic missions, appealing to various planets' governments to join the Republic. They had, for the most part, been peaceful; both Mace and Qui-Gon were noticeably talented in diplomacy and negotiation, and neither having taken a Padawan of their own yet, had welcomed what was the planet-hopping equivalent of a road trip.

Telos was, in fact, their final stop before they would return to Coruscant. As was customary, they had set up the meeting with Crion, the planet's Governor, some weeks in advance, and now sat in his lush office, waiting for him to hear what they had to say. Missions like these were rather cushy in and of themselves: negotiations were not difficult, and while it technically counted as interacting with different proponents of the universe, they were in minimal danger, and influential decisions could be made fairly quickly. It was good practice for being one's own master.

*

Crion was fashionably late and, as was rather characteristic from the diplomats Qui-Gon had come into contact with, aristocratically breezy about it. He sauntered into the office, thick, expensive-looking blue robes the same color as his eyes, a correlation that Qui-Gon was rather sure Crion had made intentionally worn meticulously-fitted. He appeared to be in his early fifties, and well-preserved; shiny, jet-black hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his high-collared neck, the sides graced with brief strands of silver that only served to make him appear even more distinguished. It reminded him a little of Dooku, really.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for coming," Crion said, his voice dripping cordialities. That was definitely Dooku, Qui-Gon thought wryly; a surreptitious glance at Mace told him that his fellow Knight had had a similar realization. Crion sat in the chair at the head of the rectangular table, pressing a button on the arm as he settled in; seconds later, a well-polished silver droid made its way in, a serving tray in its mechanical arms.

"Thank you, Marius," Crion told it, sipping from the tall glass it placed in front of him. "Have some wine, I insist," he urged; Qui-Gon and Mace picked up their own glasses and sipped. It was a very rich drink, probably either imported or rare (or both) definitely not something he would have chosen otherwise, but Qui-Gon wanted to be polite, so he drank.

"Telosians don't usually name their droids, of course," Crion explained with a dismissive wave of his hand after 'Marius' had left. "My son, Xanatos, insists on personifying everything, however. A childish trait, to be sure, but seeing as he's only four, my wife thinks it's charming and begs me to let him be. Of course, I have trouble saying no to her," Crion laughed facetiously. Qui-Gon and Mace chuckled lightly themselves, both eager to get down to business.

However, it was not to be, at least not for some time. Not more than five minutes into the meeting, the door swung open, a small, dark blur zooming inside. "Xanatos, Mommy is not finished brushing your hair yet!" A petite woman with auburn hair tugged up into a complicated series of braids followed close behind, a brush in her hand. "You know better."

The blur Xanatos, apparently rushed around the table, propelling itself towards Crion, who let out a hearty laugh and scooped it up. "Hello there, little one," he chuckled, patting the young boy affectionately on the head and smoothing down some wayward strands of raven-colored hair. It was the most genuine thing Qui-Gon had seen him do. "It's all right, Carlotta, I've got him," he assured his wife. He chucked the boy under the chin. "Even though he didn't properly finish getting dressed."

"You said I could meet our guests," Xanatos pouted; then he looked at Mace and Qui-Gon, and the expression quickly changed to one of keen interest. "Who are you?"

"Ah, and so I did," Crion laughed again. "Gentlemen, I wish for you to meet my son, Xanatos. Xanatos, these are Jedi Knights Qui-Gon Jinn and Mace Windu."

"It's very nice to meet you," Qui-Gon offered, smiling a little himself when Xanatos proffered a tiny hand for him to shake. Mace, always the more standoffish betwixt the two around children, simply nodded politely. Xanatos, however, seemed more interested in Qui-Gon, anyways. They proceeded with their presentation, peppered with frequent interruptions from the little boy with questions for Qui-Gon to answer.

"What's that?" Xanatos pointed to Qui-Gon's side, where the hilt of his lightsaber hung securely from his utility belt. He unclipped it and held it out for the child to see. "Does it work?" Xanatos asked, blue eyes identical to his father's; it was obvious who had the dominant genes in their family wide with curiosity.

"You mean does it have a blade?" Qui-Gon queried with a friendly smile. Xanatos nodded eagerly. "Yes. But a Jedi does not activate his lightsaber unless it is absolutely necessary. We are first and foremost keepers of peace, and warriors only when peace is not so easily kept." Xanatos seemed pleased enough with the answer. Qui-Gon could tell that Mace was annoyed by the boy's unquenchable thirst for knowledge his friend never did appreciate lapses in schedules when there was so much that could be done with the wasted time but Qui-Gon found it refreshing, intriguing. And he sensed something peculiar about this child; he couldn't quite place his finger on what it was, exactly. However, it both unnerved and excited him.

The meeting eventually wound to a close. As was usually the case with these negotiations, Crion asked for a day or so to consider the offer to join the Republic; customarily, he offered Qui-Gon and Mace a room in the guest quarters, and full access to planetary guides, should they like to explore "the sights and sounds of our extremely progressive world". They accepted with polite bows, and Crion pressed the same button on his chair to have Marius show them where they would be staying.

*

An afternoon of guided tours merged into dinner with Crion and his family; the food was as rich as the wine, and both Qui-Gon and Mace ate politely yet sparingly, not wanting to feel sluggish. More than anything, they were interested to see how Crion interacted with his family and servants. One of the most interesting things of note, Qui-Gon had pointed out to Mace retrospectively, was that, though Crion's official title denoted him Governor of Telos, he worked without any close advisors, more in the fashion of a ruler than simply an elected official. He had people to work for him, of course, and did not necessarily push his will on the planet's citizens, but the implication was certainly there, nonetheless. Qui-Gon wondered at the Senate's ability to monitor this in the years to come, should Telos decide to ally itself with the Republic.

For all his dedication to his prospering business connections, however, it was also readily apparent that Crion was, at heart, a family man. It was an odd combination, to be sure, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. Over dinner, in fact (at which Crion, unlike the Jedi, ate and drank plentifully), Qui-Gon and Mace were treated to numerous anecdotes about he and his wife's lives together, both before and after Xanatos' birth. The boy himself proved to be quite the young aristocrat when he was hungry, happily dedicated to cutting his own meat up into more manageable pieces while his parents doted on him.

"Carlotta and I were wed nearly a decade ago, now," Crion explained. The plain woman to his right was pleasant enough, Qui-Gon decided, but he ultimately wondered at her romantic inclinations with a man who seemed to be her exact opposite. However, he knew it would be rude to ask this; besides which, listening often led to more answers than one could ever have even hoped to want. It was one of the first basic rules of being a Jedi, and as a Knight for several months now, he knew it well.

"Crion wanted an heir, of course," Carlotta said, picking up the slack as Crion dug into the main portion of his meal. "I was prepared to give him one, but fate has a sometimes confusing way of intervening with even the best-laid plans. I couldn't get pregnant," she explained. "Not for many years. We didn't want to, but we eventually relied on some of Telos' medical technology to help the process along. It was extremely experimental," she added. "But I wanted to be a mother so very badly.

"A little over four years ago, now, Xanatos was born," she said, smiling at her son. "It was the happiest day of our lives. We pamper him, as I'm sure you've noticed," she continued, almost apologetically. "Crion promised that we would have the best nanny employed immediately if that was what it took, but I found great pleasure in doing things with Xani myself, rather than relying on the aid of a surrogate parent." The boy beamed at this. "I want him to always know who his parents are. It's as important as knowing the legacy of one's family."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Of course." Neither he nor Mace, of course, was able to relate to this terribly. While the Jedi Order was certainly a legacy in and of itself, it was a quiet one, a person's deeds while in service to it often going unmentioned. Pride, attachment, romantic love all of these were deterrents on the path to a Jedi's purest harmony with the Force; emotions were still felt, obviously, but over time, one learned to suppress, even substitute them for more efficient, tidier things. It was a life entirely different from the privilege that one would find living on Telos.

Qui-Gon glanced sidelong at Mace, whose expression was similarly one of polite interest. Wealth, material possessions, infamy none of these were striven for by the Jedi. The temptation was always around, rearing its head, and not everyone who pledged themselves to such a life always managed to stay it out. But Qui-Gon knew that Mace would be one of the handfuls that did. Rigid yet compassionate towards living beings, undaunted by the calls of power and money, Mace Windu would be a mainstay to the Order for years to come. Qui-Gon knew it as certainly as he knew that the Force flowed through them.

His moment of serenity was broken by the clattering of a ceramic dish against the ground. Immediately refocused on the present, he mentally scolded himself for allowing his thoughts to take him away, even momentarily. The room had suddenly erupted into a small flurry of activity. The attractively made butter dish that had previously sat towards the center of the expansive dinner table was now on the well-polished floor in pieces. Crion was ordering Marius to clean up the mess, and Carlotta was admonishing a slightly hysterical Xanatos.

"Xanatos, what has Mommy told you about making things float? Especially when there's company over?" she sighed, checking the boy over for injuries. Satisfied that there were none, she sat down again, nodding apologetically to Qui-Gon and Mace. "I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "That was an unexpected interruption."

"It's quite all right," Qui-Gon assured her. He gazed nearly indiscriminately at Mace again, as if seeking council for what he was about to say. The dark-skinned man's expression was wary, but he seemed to sense that Qui-Gon was likely to do it anyway; finally, he nodded. "Carlotta, have you ever considered that young Xanatos here might be Force-sensitive?" he asked.

Xanatos, ever precocious, immediately seemed to grow less upset. "What's Force-sensitive?" he asked, large eyes turned once again on Qui-Gon.

"It means you have special abilities," Qui-Gon explained, deciding to forego mention of things like midichlorians for want of not confusing the boy. "You may be able to perform extraordinary physical and mental feats, even move objects with your mind. Do you do things like this a lot?" he asked kindly, gesturing towards the broken dish that Marius was sweeping up.

Xanatos bit his lip. "Sometimes," he confirmed, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I didn't mean to, though."

"No, of course not," Qui-Gon chuckled. "It's not something you can help. Some are simply born with it. You can choose whether to sharpen your skills or not, however," he explained. "The Jedi, for instance, all utilize the Force."

Xanatos very quickly put two-and-two together. "So I could be a Jedi?" he said excitedly. "Like you?"

Qui-Gon smiled at him, his gaze flickering to Crion and then Carlotta, who had both gone rather silent. "There is always that possibility. However," he said, speaking mainly to Xanatos' parents now, "it is not a decision to be taken lightly. A Jedi must be fully committed to the Order and all of its tenets. Xanatos would live at the Temple with the other Initiates, would most likely be taken on as a Padawan learner before he turns thirteen, and would train under a Master for many years after that. It is a lifetime of commitment," Qui-Gon stressed gently. "If a decision by his entire family was made for him to do this, there is the possibility that you would not see each other again."

Carlotta's already pale face had gone considerably whiter during this concession. "Xanatos has always been special," she finally said, her voice nary a whisper. "He does things, says things sometimes that seem unusual. Not in any particularly negative way, of course," she noted hastily. "But different, nonetheless. He has not started formal education on Telos at this point, but I must admit, the idea that these things could cause problems for him if left unfettered is very upsetting."

"There are certainly things you would be able to help Xanatos do, should he stay here," Qui-Gon assured her, his voice steady, comforting. "Being Force-sensitive is not life-threatening; it can go untrained. In fact, some beings prefer this; as I've said, deciding to follow the Jedi path is not a decision that should be made suddenly. And rest assured, your son can still live out a rather normal life on Telos with you, if that is your choice in the end."

Carlotta nodded, her eyes cast towards the table in silent reflection. Crion eventually cleared his throat. "It's not that we haven't heard of the Force and how the Jedi ascribe to it, of course," he said. "We even considered that Xani's little levitation problem might have been related to it somehow. But he's our son. Our only son," Crion murmured, his voice hushed. "Even if he would have a choice to hone his special abilities, I'm not sure if the price is worth it." He stood, and Qui-Gon and Mace joined him a moment later.

"Let us assure you, Governor, as well as your wife and son, that we are by no means trying to persuade you one way or the other," Mace explained. "Our original intention was and still is the acquisition of Telos as a member of the Republic, and that will not change or be jeopardized in any way regardless of whether Xanatos stays here or decides to come to Coruscant with us." He and Qui-Gon bowed simply.

Crion nodded solemnly. "I understand. Your proposition for Telos to ally itself with the Republic is one I will not hesitate to think about. As for Xanatos it will be a much more difficult subject to think about." He gave a short bow himself and turned. "I wish you a good night's rest, gentlemen. If it pleases you, we can meet back here at noontide. Hopefully by then, I will we will," he corrected himself, nodding with pained eyes at his son "have come to a decision on both counts."

Qui-Gon and Mace both nodded, then started out of the room. Qui-Gon didn't even have to look at his friend to know they were both thinking the same thing: that is, sleep would not come easy for anybody in this household tonight.

*

Mace had managed to fall asleep rather easily, as it turned out; it was a trait Qui-Gon had often envied, his friend's ability to decide he was going to do something and for his will to be enough to make it happen. Qui-Gon, even as a Padawan, had been restless, often relying on the meditation techniques taught to him by Dooku to ease himself into light meditative states that could refuel his energy in almost the same ways that sleep would.

He had also found calming properties in nature, and during a leisurely stroll under the stars around Crion's property had discovered a small yet flourishing flower garden. The species was richly colored, dignified, much like its owners, and Qui-Gon sat cross-legged near them, breathing in the light scent and finding comfort in the act.

The faint signature of Force energy surprised him; it was unfamiliar at this point, but he still knew without turning around that it belonged to Xanatos. The boy ambled over to his side, taking a seat next to Qui-Gon, who marveled at how perfectly natural and right all at once this seemed. "Do you like flowers?" the child asked by way of introduction. He was already adept like his father at assuming a space for himself without invitation. Qui-Gon found it a bemusing trait, something that could either become a blessing or a burden, should Xanatos choose to come back to Coruscant with them.

"I have always enjoyed nature," Qui-Gon told him, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers again for emphasis. "Are these your mother's?"

"And mine," Xanatos boasted proudly. "I helped her put them in and grow them." He looked contemplative for a moment. "Do all Jedi like flowers?"

Qui-Gon started at the peculiar phrasing, but then chuckled. "The Jedi revere all living things. But like most beings, they each have special talents and preferences. If you decided to join us, you would discover your own eventually."

"I want to be a powerful Jedi," Xanatos enthused. "With a lightsaber and everything!"

Qui-Gon laughed outright this time. "All Jedi are powerful in their own way," he assured the boy. "And they all have their own lightsabers."

"When will I get one?" Xanatos' eyes gleamed, and Qui-Gon could tell that in his mind, he was already coming back with them to Coruscant. He wondered if it was wise to indulge the boy like this; neither Crion nor Carlotta had seemed particularly keen on giving up their only son, particularly since it had been so difficult to acquire him in the first place. He didn't want to promise things he could not give.

"There's a special process for making a lightsaber," Qui-Gon explained. "The crystals must be gathered from a cave on a certain planet; then there are meditations that you perform and special visions that you must allow yourself to encounter. Eventually, you would create a hilt to place those crystals in to create the blade."

"How long does that take?" Xanatos asked.

"It varies from person to person sometimes a few minutes or hours, sometimes a few days. Nobody's visions are exactly the same," Qui-Gon asserted. "Everyone is different but they are all connected by the Force."

They sat quietly together after that, the light reflecting off of Telos' single moon a calming presence. Qui-Gon wondered idly after Xanatos' bedtime, but he didn't want the boy to feel as though he were babysitting him. Jedi tried to cultivate a sense of individuality in their young ones. He was about to chastise himself for thinking of the boy as one of theirs when the child broke the silence. "If I become a Jedi, will you be the one to teach me?" he asked.

"You would take classes at the Temple with the other Initiates," Qui-Gon explained. "Then you would be chosen by a Master and become his or her Padawan. And they would teach you from there until you became a Knight and eventually took an apprentice of your own."

Xanatos blinked, his gaze otherwise unwavering. "Will you be my Master?"

"It is a possibility," Qui-Gon finally said. He smoothed a hand over the boy's head, noting that his mother had, at last, gotten it brushed. It fell just past the nape of his neck, obviously intended to be grown out like his father's. "This would be shorter if you were a Jedi," he told him.

"Like yours?" Xanatos cocked his head curiously.

"Much shorter." Qui-Gon had been relieved to leave the close-cropped Padawan-style cut he had worn for many years behind after his Knighting. It was his braid that had been most symbolic of his apprenticeship under a Master, perhaps, but being able to grow out his spiky locks into something longer, more substantial, more HIM had been his personal favorite part. Mace had taken to this newfound non-uniformity, even; Qui-Gon often teased him about the small cloud of dark curls he'd been growing ever since their joint Knighting day.

Xanatos fingered a tendril of his own shiny mane. "That's okay, then," he said decidedly. "I don't much like all the tangles anyway." He looked down briefly. "And my mother won't be there to get them out, either."

"She won't," Qui-Gon said gently. "But that does not mean you will not be cared for, and loved. Your pupils and teachers will become like a family as much as they are your friends," he continued. "And " he paused. "Your Master will seem almost like a mother or father." The thought sent a small pang through him; Dooku had been the closest thing Qui-Gon had to a parent, and then he had simply abandoned him. Qui-Gon had cherished Master Yoda's teachings just as much, of course, but it still had not been the same as being chosen, taken in and raised. He had spent a good deal of his formative years as Dooku's apprentice. To know that he could be so easily forgotten had hurt. It was a Jedi trait to forgive, but a small part of him would always resent his old Master for abandoning him.

A slight wind blew nonetheless briskly over the tops of the flowers, chilling the night air. "We should probably go inside," Qui-Gon said, standing and proffering a hand for Xanatos to take. The young boy impulsively threw his arms around Qui-Gon's waist, hugging, and Qui-Gon felt warmed.

*

Brunch seemed a nominally less cheerful affair than their meetings the day before. Qui-Gon and Mace could both feel the change right away; they agreed to let Crion set the pace, no matter what his decision.

The older man looked distinguished as ever, the robes he wore today a deep red. But there were slight circles underneath his eyes, owing to the notion that he had slept even less than Qui-Gon last night. "To pressing matters first," he said introductorily. "The Republic. I think it would be beneficial in the long run to Telos to join. We can only hope to prosper even more greatly than we already have in upcoming years, and to cut ourselves off from the trade routes and connections that such an organization would be foolish."

"The Republic will be pleased to hear this," Mace said with a nod. "We will draw up the papers in a while and have confirmation of your acceptance to bring back to Coruscant."

Crion nodded. He took a deep breath and glanced at his wife, who looked equally frazzled. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed, and Qui-Gon knew she had been crying. "Now, as for Xanatos," Crion began. At the mention of his name, the boy looked up. "Carlotta and I have discussed it amongst ourselves, and with Xani as well. It is a wonderful opportunity for him, to be sure," he said. "A way for him to grow in one of the few ways we are unable to provide. We also know that he would not have another chance to seize it; he is almost already too old as it is." Qui-Gon and Mace both nodded politely.

"Given the extraordinary circumstances, we would like to allow you to take Xanatos with you, in hopes of his becoming a Jedi," Crion announced, but quietly so, not at all like the boastful proclamations he'd become accustomed to. It was obvious that the decision would grieve him.

"We would be honored to have Xanatos among us," Qui-Gon said gently. "And we are equally indebted to you for providing for him up to this point. I must also stress the enormity of this decision one more time, however," he noted cautiously. "The Jedi Order frowns upon extraneous attachments; if a Jedi knows of their family at all, they are discouraged from even semi-regular contact. We feel that it interferes with our mission and purpose in the service of the Force." He paused to take a drink of water. "If Xanatos does come with us, you will most likely not see him again."

Carlotta made a small noise in the back of her throat. "There aren't allowances made for the few Jedi who do have family that they know about?" she half-pleaded. "An occasional concession to send mail to one another? A yearly contact, perhaps?"

"Special allowances are sometimes made," Mace said sternly, "but we do not absolutely guarantee anything."

Carlotta nodded, and Crion remained silent throughout the rest of the meal. Qui-Gon regarded Xanatos, sensing a mish-mash of emotions rolling off of him. The boy caught his sidelong glance and gave him a brilliant smile.

*

Eventually, their visit drew to an end. Mace took the pilot of their transport home aside to go over last minute flight details, while Qui-Gon made to say goodbye to the Governor.

Xanatos' allowed belongings had already been packed aboard the small ship. His mother had fussed over the small amount of things he was allowed to take with him, but had eventually packed them into a single bag. She seemed to be taking the idea of the separation harder than Crion, although Qui-Gon knew that what was outwardly displayed did not always match what somebody felt inside.

"Oh, Xani," Carlotta sighed, kneeling unceremoniously on the ground and clutching her son to her. She stroked his hair and gazed sadly at his small face. "I love you so much. Please don't ever forget that. Even if everything in your life becomes unbearably sad, reach into your heart and know that you are always loved by someone." A single tear slid down her cheek; Qui-Gon watched the tender scene with quiet compassion.

"I love you too, Mom," Xanatos sniffled. He buried his face in her neck, pulling away with watery eyes. He looked up as Crion strode up to them, throwing his arms around his father's neck in earnest as the older man knelt so that he could reach.

"Be well, my son," Crion murmured, cupping Xanatos' cheek in his palm. The ring he wore around one of his thin fingers stroked the boy's damp flesh, cooling it just a little. Crion stood and nodded at Qui-Gon. "Take good care of him."

"He will always be cared for." Qui-Gon bowed reverently, and Crion nodded, his hand shaking ever so slightly as he dropped it from Xanatos' shoulder. The boy clamored eagerly up the ship's ramp, and Qui-Gon followed close behind. He showed Xanatos to his designated seat and the other facilities aboard their transport back to Coruscant, patient when the child seemed more interested in staring out one of the small windows at his parents as they prepared to take-off. He watched them hungrily, biting his lip as they grew smaller and smaller until they couldn't be seen at all. "It is all right to miss them," Qui-Gon assured him. "In time, it will feel like less of an ache."

Xanatos looked down at his hands. "They'll miss me more," he said, a notion far beyond that of a boy his age. "I will learn to forget them, but they won't do that for me. They will never forget."

"They care very much for you," Qui-Gon asserted gently. "And you are difficult to forget." He was gratified to see Xanatos smile at this, his upturned mouth soon breaking into a full-fledged grin that Qui-Gon couldn't help returning. He glanced out the ship's window at the expanse of stars around them. Even in the vastness of hyperspace, he could feel the Force, strong and unwavering, flowing through them all.

He relaxed as the pilot skillfully maneuvered them forward, towards Coruscant, the Jedi Temple and, he felt confident in this, even so pre-emptively a future where his and Xanatos' lives were already intricately intertwined.


End file.
